Hopeless Hope
by Whitefeather
Summary: After thirteen years, the ten loyal to him are to be free once more... the infamous escape from Azkaban in OOTP, from Bellatrix's POV.


Hopeless Hope 

AN- Quickly done, so it seems a bit rushed.  But I enjoyed writing it, so...  ^-^  For Voldemort's Bellatrix, who I'm doing beta reading for right now.  Don't give up, girl!  

Usual disclaimers apply.  

*~* 

It was near midnight.  

Darkness spilled through the bars of my cell, yet the moon—full, for a change, left a bit of light reflecting onto my dark hands.  I turned them, without much interest, and placed them down at my sides before leaning back against the cold stone wall behind me.  Sighing heavily, I concentrated once more on the single thought that kept me sane—the thought of pain.  The thought of the incantation 'crucio' and what it brought.  

It had taken me almost three years to find a thought that the dementors could not take form us, and those three years were pure hell.  Thoughts raced my mind, and each time a glimmer of something to keep me sane grew in my mind, the demons form hell would race towards my cell and feast upon me.  The only reason I lasted that long...  the knowledge that in years time, when he came for me, I would control them.  And the fact that I once had.  

I formed my lips to say the word aloud once more, though nothing would come of it.  The pain fresh in my mind...  thoughts of torture and pain not only on my victims but upon myself.  A chuckle escaped; so many feared that word, yet here I was, awaiting the time when I would once again feel the spell upon my back with anticipation.  

After all, anything is better than this.  

"Crucio," I whispered, the familiar word echoing down my small cell.  The night, in its silence, echoed the word even further.  What was probably a few hours later, much to my delight, I heard the same mantra from down the deserted hallway—of my fellow Death Eaters, one had heard the whisper and echoed it.  It wasn't the first time; hell, it happened often enough in our thirteen years here.  And the hour it had taken for someone to echo it back—it took more energy to say a word here then to eat.  But when we did, the joy it brought us... but we dare not do it excessively—what if an Auror or human guard realized that it gave us a common mantra, a common hope, and moved us further apart?  

The one who had said it second, echoed his word once again, with almost a plea attached.  I strained, and finally came up with the idea that it was most likely Jugson.  He had always seemed weaker there, and had always carried a note of plea.  

We had not seen one another in thirteen years; yet we were all within ten feet of one another, give or take.  But while we all waited, we depended on the knowledge that we were surrounded by others like ourselves.  When the single word would echo, each would say it in turn, barely over a breath's decibel.  After thirteen years, we were trained on hearing it.  And deciphering what it meant.  A single word... and that itself would carry the speaker's message.  

Finally, another from right next to my own cell carried on.  His voice was darker, heavier, but there was something recognizable in it.  No doubt it was my husband, Rodolphus.  My heart clenched.  Truthfully, he'd never cared for me, never loved me as I'd loved him—and he was someone from that life, which I wanted back.  My mind thought quickly, and not for the first time, I mapped out the circular room where we all remained—even though we couldn't see one another.  _Rodolphus__ to my right, Rabastan to his, then Jugson, Rookwood...  _my thoughts drained off.  A rain of 'crucios' was vibrating through the room, as loud as ever—barely loud enough to hear in a silent room.  

It gave me comfort.  I closed my eyes and felt myself falling into a dead sleep; full of the nightmares which I relished.  I was the ringleader, this time around.  As I once was.  

As I would be again.    

Without warning, the mantra stopped.  And, for the first time in the thirteen years we had been in this tall tower, gasps and broken fragments of words broke out.  They were soft, but each held something I hadn't seen in thirteen years- _hope.  _

I turned my head gently, and looked out the window.  

The Dark Mark glowed unwaveringly in the sky outside our windows.  

He was alive.  He had returned.  

For us.  

I choked on air, then crawled to the door; faster than I had ever moved in my time here.  It had been at least seven years since I had had the energy to walk, or to stand; but I knew I needed to get to the cell door.  My life, it seemed, depended on it.  It was now, the time was now... thoughts jumbled.    

From the one outlet of the room, where the stairwell going up to this cell room lay; footsteps.  It wasn't the swishing of dementors, or the clomping of Aurors—it was _footsteps.  _

A figure appeared in the center of the room where all of us could see him, even though spells kept us from seeing one another.  He was covered in a long black cloak which made my head spin—it had been so long.  He looked around slowly, smiling from beneath his hood to each of us—invisible, yet we could _feel _it.  My hands gripped the bars, and I slumped down; eyes focused on the not-so-stranger.  It had to be, could it be...?  

Two more figures came to rest at the top of the stairwell; figures that could only be Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape.  They watched us with the tiniest grins plastered on their faces.  Hatred boiled—they had escaped, while we suffered.  Having spent the last of my energy moving to the bars, I could not waste more on them.  I needed to gather energy.  I turned my head to the central figure.  

He had moved slowly to the cell closest to the stairwell, and had his wand out.  My heart stopped.  

It was the wand of our Lord.  

Everyone saw this, and let out gasps and sighs—the most our hollowed bodies would allow.  If we hadn't been this weak... 

He turned to face each of us with a definite smile under the hood.  And he spoke, in a voice cold and high; the voice we had waited for, for thirteen years.  That we knew would return for us.     

"The wait is over."  

These words seemed to be a bomb—as soon as they were spoken, the room erupted in moans and rustles.  Amongst the clanking, I grew stronger.  I was the faithful.  I was the one.  He turned slowly back to the cell he was standing next to, and whispered the unlocking incantation.  

Antonin Dolohov fell, face-first, out of the cell.  The time here had changed him—he was no longer the heavyset man with a light in his eyes.  It gave me fear, suddenly—what if I, like him, had changed?  What if I had lost the beauty I once held dear?  What if, when my master's eyes traced my body, he grimaced?  

He bent over, and spoke a one-way conversation with Antonin for a time.  But time was nothing.  We had waited this long, what was a few more hours?  

I closed my eyes once more, and took in the fact that I was free once again.  I had made a list of things to do when free in my head—hold my husband close to me, actually say 'crucio' with a spell attached, look my master in the eye, take a long, hot bath, dress up and look at myself in the mirror...  I now could do all those things.  

He moved on to Morris Jugson, Augustus Rookwood...  then to the cell next to mine.  My eyes focused, waiting, praying—my husband was in there, and I would see him again...  I rolled my wedding band thoughtlessly around my finger.  

But our Master walked past.  He nodded to my husband, then walked.  He then passed my cell, and nodded, his eyes not even looking at me once.  Tears pressed my eyes—why?  Why us?  Why the loyal?  Fear pressed over that.  Glimmers of fear, in this place, where fear reigned supreme...   

He moved on, opening all the cells except for the two of ours, and one other which I knew to be my brother-in-law's.  They all lay on the floor, tears of joy falling, embracing reality.  After a time they stood with the help of Lucius and Severus, and walked down.  Out.  Somehow. 

The three of us—we waited with fear.   

When they were all gone and the two helpers had returned, our Lord moved to our three adjacent cells; Rabastan and I to the sides, and Rodolphus in the middle.  We all were leaning on the bars...  waiting, praying, hoping...  

The Dark Lord laughed, then took down his hood.  The sight that greeted us was amazing, overpowering—we had waited so long for this moment.  All my fears melted away.  He walked to Rabastan's cell, opened it, and waited.  Rabastan crawled with all his might, and kissed the bottom of our master's robes.  He laughed, and placed a skeletal white hand over the faithful Death Eater's shoulder.  Like those before he leaned and whispered in his ear, but this time for, literally, an hour.  

I feared an Auror entering, and stopping him from freeing my husband and I.  After all, it had to have been at least six hours since he had first entered.  Seven or eight since the mark was flown to the sky.  As much as I trusted him, I wanted freedom.  

He moved to my husband's cell, and Lucius held Rabastan to help him stand.  They walked down, and then out.  The second I heard the incantation 'alohamora' I froze—there before me, after this time, was the man I'd married.  

Like his brother, he was hollow.  It was like all life had been taken from him; all except the fire that lit his eyes.  His hair was longer, down past his shoulders, with the red streaks faded more into the long mane.  The skin on his hands was blistered and raw, from rubbing against the walls.  However, a simple golden ring adorned his raw fingers; our ring, the sister to the one on my finger.  And it still shimmered—like the longing in my heart.   

In all, he was a sort of mirror to what he was.  

But he was my husband.     

The Dark Lord bent over and spoke to him, though time passed differently here.  I was seeing the two people that mattered in my life again.  My eyes feasted hungrily.  My heart fluttered.  

Unlike the others, Lucius and Severus didn't take Rodolphus away.  They simply walked over to him, and watched as my master turned on my cell.  

It was like I had seen it in my dreams; his eyes rolled from Rodolphus to my body, looked me over, and finally matched my eyes.  Red slits to the gray holes.  And he opened the cell door without moving his eyes from my face; unlike the others, I didn't fall to my face in front of him.  I had waited too long.  

It took time, like everything that night, but I stood.  He made no motion to stop me or to help me, but watched me struggle, then finally, stand for the first time in seven years.  

He was a good two feet taller than me, but it didn't matter.  I remained in my cell, out of the sight of my husband, and staring at my master.  He walked towards me, and placed his hand on mine as he had done with my brother-in-law's shoulder.  With his free hand, he gave me a shard of a mirror—and I took it, without glancing into it.  There would be a time.      

"Look at yourself then go to him, my faithful Bella.  Your time, it is here."  I nodded slowly, and pulled out the mirror.  

My hair was long...  dark, as it had once been.  It hung limply, but there was nothing I could do.  Heavy was the only way to describe my eyes, and lines lay underneath as heavy as makeup.  My skin was dark, and my eyes themselves were gray; though a small fire blazed in them as it once had.  I was still beautiful, though in a more deathly sense.      

 With caution to not fall over, I stepped into sight of the three men in the cell's center.  

Rodolphus stood up, as though a breath of life had entered him.  Walking over to me slowly as I had done, he finally reached me.  

I barely noticed his hand encase my own, or his mouth move to overtake mine.  All I saw were his eyes, and the fire within them not unlike my own; and the truth.  

For the first time in our entire lives, he loved me.  

Thirteen years were well spent.                      


End file.
